Big Light
by rochesters
Summary: This is how Kirill falls in love.


**Big Light**  
By: Rochester

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Kirill isn't exactly sure when he fell in love with Jack Ryan, but it sneaks up on him like a sniper's bullet, knocking him to the proverbial floor.

Having deep feelings for another is a foreign concept to him, especially given his line of work. Attachments are a sign of weakness (by his old employers), a weakness that Kirill cannot afford to have if he wants to stay alive.

He and Bourne…it hadn't been love or maybe it had. They both sought physical comfort in one another, but that was the extent of it as far as Kirill was concerned.

But Jack…his _Yagnenok_…he is different from the others and Kirill knows it from the moment they meet.

Perhaps it's the helpless and muffled sobs that came from behind the chloroform laced cloth that Kirill held over the American's nose and mouth, or those blue eyes that leak with salty tears and how they reminded him of the blue waters of Bora Bora.

Or the way Jack looks at him whenever Kirill comes into the room, that makes the Russian feel that this young man is looking straight into his soul rather than through him.

Or how he gives Jack that silly nickname he seems to detest, though it amuses Kirill to no end or gives him a secret thrill down his spine when Jack shoots him a dirty look (scowl, wrinkled nose, and an incoherent grumble).

Either way, it happens and Kirill realizes it as he and Jack are in the latter's bed. It's late at night and the lights are low, casting shadows over their skin. Kirill's cock is buried into the tight heat of Jack's ass and his hands are firmly grasping the American's hips.

He looks up at Jack and watches his handsome face as his pleasure mounts with each and every movement, the glistening sheen of sweat on smooth skin and tight muscle, and how his knuckles turn white as he grips Kirill's forearms.

He hears Jack cry out as Kirill's cock brushes against his prostate and his rhythm - already shaking to begin with - falters as Jack leans over Kirill's chest. Kirill moves Jack's hips with his hands as he thrusts up, igniting another throaty moan from the younger man's mouth.

Jack is the louder of the two, not that Kirill minds, and his enthusiasm in bed matches the Russian's own. They work well together in (and out of) bed, wordlessly directing each other with touches and frantic kisses as they writhe between the sheets of the American's bed.

Or floor.

Or shower.

Or anywhere else Kirill can get Jack in various states of undress.

He tries to tell himself it's just the sex and the feel of the American's tight passage sunk around his cock or those full lips wrapped around his head as Jack sucks Kirill off.

But he knows it's not. It's something more, something that has lingered from the first time he saw Jack's picture in the file.

It's intensified since they became lovers and marvels Kirill with how easy it is for them to fall into bed together, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it is…perhaps it's circumstances and it's all in Kirill's head.

He hears Jack cry out again, his head thrown back and exposing the delicate curve of his neck, and his muscles clench around Kirill's cock.

"Viktor," he moans, breathlessly, poetically, beautifully and makes Kirill's heart constrict in his chest.

It's the first time Jack's ever called out his name during sex. He's vocal, but it's usually filled with 'oh god', 'oh fuck', 'I'm close' or a variety of all three.

Kirill gazes up to see those too blue eyes looking at him through heavy eyelids. Jack smiles down at him and leans over far enough to capture Kirill's lips in a kiss. The Russian can taste their commingling sweat as their lips touch and their tongues do battle for dominance as their bodies move against each other.

Kirill plays dirty and thrusts up as his fist, lube slick from foreplay, closes around Jack's leaking cock that bounces between them. He chuckles at the muffled wail that vibrates in his mouth and how Jack's blunt fingernails dig into his skin with each stroke.

He feels Jack's passage tighten and flutter as the younger man's climax draws closer. Jack breaks the kiss with a gasp, leaning back into Kirill's precise movements.

Kirill moves up so that he's sitting upright and in control of the motion of Jack's hips against his own. Jack trembles in his arms, his anticipatory gasps getting louder, and his hands bury themselves in Kirill's hair.

The Russian feels Jack's hot breath against his skin as he rests his head in the hollow of Jack's neck. He speeds up the movement of his hand, using every dirty trick in the book to send Jack over the edge.

"Viktor," Jack pants. "Oh god…"

He holds Jack through his orgasm and pulls everything he can out of the American before his own release. Kirill hisses through his teeth as he unloads himself inside of Jack, who is still moaning and shaking somewhere above him.

He doesn't realize that he loves Jack when the younger man looks down at him, post orgasm and dazed.

Or when he says, "I think you're trying to kill me" with a smile that could light up the dimly lit room (to which Kirill chuckles).

Nor when they have showered off the sweat and lube from their bodies and are back in the bed. Jack is laying there when Kirill comes back from the bathroom and seemingly asleep as the Russian slips in beside him.

As soon as Kirill lays down on the mattress and brings the sheets over their naked bodies, Jack presses himself against the Russian's body and burrows his face into Kirill's neck with a content hum.

"Are you comfortable, _Yagnenok_," Kirill asks, bemused.

Jack nods and mumbles something unintelligible, his lips brushing against Kirill's skin. His body relaxes as sleep takes hold and it seems to Kirill that Jack isn't going to budge on his own.

Kirill waits until he's sure that his lover is asleep before he goes to remove himself from Jack's grasp. He's about to slip his arm out from under Jack's head when Kirill hears the American's breath hitch.

"Stay," Jack whispers.

In the moonlight, Kirill can see Jack staring up at him, looking hopeful and vulnerable.

It's then that Kirill realizes that he loves this man, who should have been nothing more than an assignment.

He swallows roughly against the lump in his throat as he brushes Jack's hair back and nods.

"_Da_," he replies as Jack settles against his body and wraps an arm over Kirill's stomach.

He drops off quickly and soon Kirill feels Jack's even breathing against his skin as he idly strokes the American's hair.

He doesn't say a word to Jack until weeks later when they are in the back of a van that is driving them to the US Embassy in Minsk. Jack is broken and bleeding - by Kirill's hand - and whimpers unconsciously as he curls against the Russian.

Kirill is afraid that this is going to be the last time they see each other, despite Landy's assurances, and decides to swallow down his fear. He whispers those three words into Jack's ear and catches the smile on his lover's lips.

He knows then that Jack feels the same and it gets Kirill through the month or so they are separated.

And when the sentiment is returned, Kirill can't believe his luck as he presses his lips against Jack's and kisses his lover until he's breathless.

The funny thing is that he still knows it, even now as Jack is curled against him - three years later and give or take several thousand miles. They are still the same, more or less. They are still in love, their relationship more defined, their life together peaceful and quiet.

Kirill hears Jack groan in his sleep and watches as he pushes himself back onto the Russian's chest, settling his head against the pillows. Kirill bends down and kisses Jack's temple before whispering endears in English, Portuguese, and Russian into his lover's ear.

This is the stability Kirill didn't realize he was looking for. He doesn't question it, not once, not ever.

He's just eternally grateful.


End file.
